


Not in our stars

by nightxshade



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Drinking, Flirting, Gen, Injury Recovery, M/M, Reminiscing, Starscourge (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightxshade/pseuds/nightxshade
Summary: A compilation of random snippets, written (mostly) for Gilgardyn week 2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week day 1: Gilgamesh is badly wounded in battle with no time for healing so Ardyn is forced to take the offensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written very last minute, on a whim, after weeks of not having any inspiration for any of day 1's prompts. My dear beta is probably sleeping, so please do excuse any and all mistakes.
> 
> Edit: thanks to amiyade, this fanfiction is now beta'd (and hopefully a bit better, than it was... XD)!

 

Gilgamesh could not recall much about the ambush when he came to a week later, finally lucid enough to string together thoughts and comprehend the incident. Yet, lying in a bed in the infirmary he had nothing better to do than _try_ to piece together the fragments in his mind.

He so wanted to be rid of this place. His stitches itched, the nurses slowly went on his nerves and he couldn’t even remember the last time he saw Ardyn. That hunger, that want hurt worse than any of his injuries.

It wasn’t only the date of their last meeting that eluded him, he could not recall what Ardyn talked to him about either. He was too tired to interrogate the staff on the healer’s whereabouts, but having gone to another plague infested town or some other future-kingly duties were all good guesses. The thought of Ardyn being outside the city walls without him did not sit well with Gilgamesh. Neither did the thought of his last failure.

It happened after days of tiresome healing. Well, tiresome for Ardyn anyway; Gilgamesh only had to be at his side and stand watch, but nobody in their sane mind would attack the only person who could help those plagued by the scourge. They were traveling back to the city when their convoy was attacked by some rebel fraction or other, vying for the power the Lucis Caelums slowly accumulated. Poor fools, the lot of them, Gilgamesh always thought. Ardyn’s bloodline was chosen by the gods themselves for the greater good, he could not fathom what those remaining groups hoped to achieve by undermining the work they were doing.

The vehicle they both occupied ran into some kind of trap, rendering them immobile; the next one in the convoy smashing into them in a careless manner. The attack came seconds later. Ardyn held his own just fine, felling their enemies one after the other even in his drained state. Gilgamesh would have marvelled over the resilience of his dearest, would he but had a second to spare. Alas, he did not. Their assailants came prepared and Gilgamesh was hit with– well, something. Slowly falling to his knees, Ardyn shouting his name and dragging his mountain of a body to lean against their damaged vehicle were among the last things he could clearly recall.

The rest of it culminated in blinding bursts of pain, merging into seconds wrapped in blissful darkness, between them flashes of auburn. Gilgamesh’s fevered mind couldn’t help but recall how it used to be a blazing, bright, bright blue – Ardyn’s gods given new talent. How nicely it contrasted with his raven locks. How Gilgamesh always fell speechless, when he watched his love practice calling his weapons with the Crystal’s magic. How his heart swelled in his chest, bordering on bursting, when he noticed that Ardyn only used the weapons Gilgamesh entrusted upon him from the collection he assembled many a year ago.

It felt like another lifetime. The first meeting with Ardyn, the cocky banter– Gilgamesh felt alive again after being bored of this world for quite some time. He challenged him to a duel as he challenged any other man he deemed worthy and was bested in the end.

Ardyn had nothing on him in regards of technique, or size, or muscle, but Astrals, his cunning mind! Gilgamesh knew he was done for, right there and then, kneeling beaten on the bridge, Ardyn’s smug smile the only thing in his vision. He knew that he would follow this man to the ends of the world, follow him even if Ardyn chose to go up against the gods themselves.

He packed his meagre belongings and gifted the best of his array to the future king as he pledged his allegiance.

He thought Ardyn only took them in a fit of fancy, or to amuse him, but to see him encircled in the crystallised mirror images of those same weapons, the icy light of them a dazzling play on his marvellous face – Gilgamesh never felt more sure about his resolution. He would die for his man, and gladly so.

He opened his mouth to call the healer out on it when he finished the practice and everything was dull and grey again, but Ardyn only smirked in his direction, rolling his eyes as he was wont to do and walked away. Gilgamesh still saw the blush lighting up his cheeks. 

They learned later that, as so many other things, Ardyn shared this particular gift with Gilgamesh. There was no brilliant show of blues and no crystals and no spinning weapons, but Gilgamesh could call his Genji Blade on a whim in a burst of cerulean sparkles.

As time passed they turned a tainted purplish auburn; the scourge not only plaguing their home, but festering in Ardyn now as well, warping him more and more as he tried to purge the sickness from the land. Gilgamesh could feel it seep into his own body, fragment by fragment over the connection they shared. Could see it in the colour of those shards every time he summoned his sword, their blue now a memory of happier times, fading away along with the ebony of Ardyn’s hair.

The itch to touch Ardyn, to hold him tightly in his arms right that instant flooded him in an unstoppable wave, but he would weather it and wait in this wretched sickbed. Ardyn had enough weight on his shoulders as it were, he did not need ushering an impatient excuse of a bodyguard back to the ward, or to fret over Gilgamesh for being rash again.

No, he swore to protect and help Ardyn on that bridge all those years ago. Now he failed and Ardyn had to step into the protector’s shoes; had to fight when Gilgamesh should have had stood his ground, had to save him when Gilgamesh should have been the one to sweep the healer off to safe grounds. It did not matter now. He would give his injuries some more time to heal, then he would go back to training. He would get better. He would get stronger.

He would go to Ardyn, embrace him and kiss him, then he would go down to his knees, just as he did once and swear never to fail him again. Ardyn would laugh at him for his gallant, but over-dramatic gesture. But Gilgamesh wouldn’t mind. Over-dramatic gestures were just one more thing they shared.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 2: “Is that so? Why don’t you come over here and make me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this prompt and sat down to write some drunken shenanigans and some delicious UST........and then THIS came out in the end.  
> Brace yourselves for some more angst...

 

‘I think it would be wise if you stopped drinking, Your Highness.’

‘Is that so? Why don’t you come over here and make me then,’ Ardyn tried to reply, but for the most part, it came out as a stuttered mess. He should have known better than to challenge the Blademaster, but self-preservation was not a trait prominent in drunks.

Gilgamesh’s hulking form pushed off of the doorframe from where he was observing his liege, and stalked closer with a single minded determination Ardyn has only ever glimpsed him wield on the battlefield.

Ardyn’s wrist got caught in an expert twist, and in the blink of an eye, the Blademaster took the glass he’s been holding and his bottle from the table, placing them out of reach.

‘Is this any way for the Future King to behave?’

‘Oh please, do cut this crap… We both know I’m–’ he hiccupped. ‘I won’t live long enough to see my coronation…’

‘Ardyn!’

‘Don’t you “Ardyn” me, you know I’m right. It’s time you face– face the facts,’ he sighed, leaning back on the divan.

Of course, Gilgamesh was never really good at facing anything when it came to Ardyn. Except maybe Death itself to keep his charge out of harms’ way. But Ardyn could always see the passing sadness on his bodyguard’s face being smothered by something indescribable, whenever he noticed how the ever-permanent bags under Ardyn’s eyes gotten bigger, or how there was more auburn in his raven hair, then when they met all those years ago. When, some mornings, he had to help the future King out of bed or some nights when he had to carry him back to his quarters.

His never-to-be Shield got down on his knees and brushed a stray lock away, his gaze boring helplessly into Ardyn’s, who in turn carded his own clumsy fingers through the silver strands falling over the other man’s shoulders. He was born to lessen the pain of the whole world, but oh, he would have traded the whole of Eos, if only he was able to alleviate Gilgamesh’s pain.

‘Do tell, was it not better to aimlessly wait for warriors on that bridge of yours than spend your days with this melodramatic drunk?’ Ardyn questioned, self-pity dripping heavily from each word.

‘Being with this melodramatic drunk is my destiny, it seems,’ Gilgamesh answered, laying his head down on his liege’s chest. ‘And I’ll stand by your side till the end.’

‘Ah, then soon you will be free my dear. That _end_ will come soon, either by this cursed plague, or by the tolls the upcoming war is taking on me,’ Ardyn scoffed bitterly, fingers never ceasing to wander through the silver mane. ‘And if not that, then my overachieving little brother surely will kill me with all his ambitions and battle plans and semantics of organising “our future kingdom, blessed by the Astrals”.’ He fell silent, the breath stuttering in his ribcage. He murmured, ‘...blessed…’, but it sounded like the curse he knew was being forced upon their bloodline by the gods.

‘Do take care of Somnus my dear, once I’m gone, will you?’

‘Ardyn…’ his bodyguard warned, but did not move from his place.

‘Swear it!’ Ardyn sat up with a sudden urgency, cradling Gilgamesh’s face with desperate fingers, eyes boring into those golden orbs. The only thing he loved about his features mutating, courtesy of the scourge, was his own eyes becoming the same amber hue. Whenever he grimaced at the warped caricature of his former self, he focused on that colour. Imagined it being the link between their souls for all eternity. A foolish notion, really.

‘If this fleeting passion of ours ever meant anything to you, then swear you will shield him, whatever may come.’ His plea must have been a war cry to Gilgamesh.

‘My passion for you is anything but fleeting. I’ll love you beyond my grave,’ he stated. Ardyn had no doubts about it being true. ‘You know your brother well, you know what he is capable of in his quest for greatness, and yet you demand this of me?’ he asked, hands coming up to Ardyn’s cheeks in answer.

Ardyn was no fool. He has seen through the Astrals’ grand schemes of saving their star as the benevolent beings they posed as, not doing anything of consequence, but rather waiting for their human toys to sort out their mess while they generously watched on in their impotence masked as wisdom.

Humanity was nothing more to them then flies were to wanton boys, and all the Astrals observed in a cruel pleasure as they suffered and died, all the while proclaiming to be their protectors.

He was not blind to his own brother’s deluded dreams of grandeur either, or the things he knew his own kin to be capable of. But Gilgamesh was loyal to a fault and Ardyn would rather not lay in the same grave with his love, would he choose to keep said loyalty to the fallen healer. No, if the one thing he achieved in this miserable life was to protect the only person who never wanted for anything but to stand by Ardyn’s side, then he would perish without regrets. And should he accomplish it by the way of deceiving his dear into pledging his allegiance to Somnus, then so be it.

Ardyn knew his dear Blademaster all too well. He knew Gilgamesh could not deny him anything. Not even this, so he just stared on, unrelenting, two sets of amber eyes searching each other, Ardyn waiting for him to break.

‘I swear,’ Gilgamesh finally said. Ardyn noted how his eyes sparkled with a sheen of tears the Blademaster would never let fall and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to his bodyguard’s forehead, an unspoken admission to the pain they both felt.

Ardyn entertained the thought of freedom some nights, when the air was as heavy with the plague as his body felt, limbs weighing him down with a dull ache and with insomnia present as the loyal companion it ever was. He imagined in a waking dream how it could have been in another world; a world without scourge decimating their people; a world without petty gods devastating their planet. Maybe a world where it was only the two of them, no prophecies, no chosen future kings, no duties.

Perhaps a wandering duo of mercenaries, roaming the land, accepting odd jobs and loving each other under the cloak of the starry skies, without fear of falling prey to the daemons prowling the darkened lands of Eos.

On some less than lucid evenings, he imagined them in a small post, surrounded with nothing but opulent forests and a breed of chocobos. He always quite liked those feathered beasts, especially the ones with a plumage resembling the colour his own hair used to be.

But fate yet again proved to be a cruel mistress. There was no roaming and no more raven hair and no time for love. There was only doing duty by his people and savouring every second the gods were willing to spare him with his beloved Blademaster.

For Gilgamesh might believe that they will somehow endure and overcome all that the Astrals have put upon them, yet Ardyn knew better. He knew his body was failing him and he knew that all the glorious promises of being the saviour king of Eos and the champion of the Crystal were as void, as the sky of stars on a cloudy night. He knew poison, even if it tasted like the sweetest of nectars.

Yet, he would bear it all, for his dearest Blademaster might have believed they will be together here and in the beyond, Ardyn knew there was only this life. The life they had not enough left of, but however long it may be, that time would be worth all the suffering in this wretched world.

So he slowly pushed Gilgamesh down onto the cushions of the divan, clambered into his dearest’s embrace and dreamed about beautiful lands, mercenary lovers and chocobos.

Far away lives they will never live. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> (And thanks to amiyade for beta-reading, although she very clearly could not care less about this ship xP true hero)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 3: “Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I think I managed to write something a bit lighter... (⊙ ε　⊙ﾉ)ﾉ  
> Enjoy!

 

The bun he pilfered from that traveling merchant tasted weird. More bland than weird, Gilgamesh decided after another bite. Definitely not worth the money the man would have wanted for his ware, and certainly not what the Blademaster envisioned as his supper, but beggars can’t be choosers. He was hungry. He should make the trip to one of the neighbouring cities and sell some of the weapons, he mused, leaning back against the tree. The rays of the setting sun peeked through the leaves, the pattern of it playing around the blades of grass like a mirage of some muted kaleidoscope.

He bit another mouthful of that blasted bun, thinking hard about where he should spend the night, when the faint revving of an engine reached his ears. Gilgamesh sighed. Just what he needed. He munched on his food, staring blandly at some creature scuttling through the undergrowth as the rumbling noise neared and then finally reached him in a puff of dust, some dirt landing on his half eaten bun. Gilgamesh set it aside dejectedly and turned his attention to the newcomer with a sigh.

The young man hopped of the vehicle and strode towards him with a flare and pomp as if he owned the world. Knowing the healer, he was probably convinced he actually did.

‘If you do not have any business here, then leave,’ Gilgamesh warned in lieu of a greeting. Although the man mildly annoyed him on a good day, their banter and the healer’s mischievous manner was, despite all the annoyance, usually a welcome occurrence in this boring cycle his life has become. And yet, he was not really in the mood tonight.

‘So cold, my darling Blademaster! You wound me!’ Ardyn said with more dramatics to his voice than necessary and kept walking. And grinning… ‘To think I made the long journey to be able to glimpse at your face again and these cruel words are all I get!’

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes and looked to the gods for patience, when Ardyn fell to the ground with a playful whump, coming up to sit on his heels between the Blademaster’s legs. Gilgamesh should have changed his posture when he saw the healer close in on him, his back leisurely leaning against the tree, one leg spread out, his other knee up to serve as an elbow rest. For Ardyn and his misplaced advances it must have looked as some carefully written invitation with finely gilded details.

‘Did you miss me?’ Ardyn grinned at him, eyes glinting.

‘Like the plague…’

‘Ah, you are in need of healing then? If you would be so good to divest yourself of all your garments–’

‘I’m going to divest you of your head, if you do not hold your mouth…’

‘I’m afraid I am incapable of doing that, maybe you would be amenable and could hold it for me?’

‘Well, I would be amenable to hold out my sword, if you would be so good to fall on it and spare me the headache your continued existence torments me with…’

Ardyn’s daemon-like grin would have scared a lesser man out of his wits.

‘Your sword could pierce me any time, my dear,’ he answered. Gilgamesh never heard anyone in his life speak the word ‘sword’ this indecently. He clunked his head on the tree trunk behind himself in defeat. Ardyn went in for the kill, whipped around and leaned his back on the Blademaster’s chest.

Gilgamesh was robbed of words and too stricken to even move a muscle. He might not even had drawn any breath for some seconds. Ardyn always circled him with his banter and the not so subtle, but all the more cunning ways of flirting. His interest in the Blademaster was blatant. Gilgamesh would lie, if he said he did not reciprocate to some extent. But this? This was something that never happened ever since that fateful day they met at the bridge. Ardyn liked to play with fire, but he always kept his distance, seemingly no intentions of burning himself by putting his hands into the flames.

Yet, there was a mop of ebony hair under his chin now and a solid warmth burning his chest through their shirts, Ardyn’s full weight resting on him. There was no tautness to his body, no strain in his posture, no fear of being pushed away. Gilgamesh would think the young man got careless in his confidence, but there was an unmistakable feeling of defeat in the way Ardyn’s body sagged into his.

‘Rather indecent of a proposal to make to your future king, my dear. One would think you would have the decency to ask for my hand before asking me to fall for you.’ His words were playful, but the sudden tiredness in them made Gilgamesh wary. He sneaked a hand around the healer’s shoulder.

‘So it has been decided?’

‘Indeed it has! The Crystal and the gods themselves have spoken and now my humble self, the blessed champion of Eos, the hope of our future walks this very lands. I shall bring the light back to our star and rid it of the scourge ailing its people!’ If sarcasm could actually drip from his words, Gilgamesh was sure they would be both drenched.

He could not think of anything in answer to this news. Ardyn kept silent as well.

‘It certainly is a heavy, but noble mantle to wear,’ he finally said. ‘You should be proud.’

Ardyn’s only reaction was a dirty scoff. Maybe he was right to sneer. No living being could know what the gods intended and how this all would play out. Gilgamesh felt the urge to walk this road, however rocky it may be, with this man in his arm flare up in his chest yet again.

The sun ducked behind the far off peaks of Ravatogh, leaving them sitting in the ever cooling night air, the stars slowly blinking to life above. It would have been wise to move before the darkness set around them, yet Gilgamesh would rather fight his way to the next settlement, than to let the future king out of his reluctant embrace. He did not know where these irrational thoughts and urges came from. He could not recall the exact point when Ardyn managed to weasel himself into the Blademaster’s life. Annoying he might be, yet Gilgamesh’s heart still jumped whenever he heard the unmistakable rumble of Ardyn’s magitek vehicle. Sometimes it was not the beat of his heart but the pressure of his blood climbing through the roof in answer to the healer’s antics.

Nonetheless, Ardyn was Ardyn, a unique hurricane of pompous wit and Gilgamesh found himself surrendering. Though admitting defeat was not on the table yet; they both would miss this game of theirs where dullness and duty were non-existent. The otherworldly gurgling sound of the waking daemons rolled down the hillside, halting any and all pondering and speculations.

‘If memory serves me right,’ Gilgamesh cleared his throat there, ‘there was some promise of drinks some time ago…’ It was a weak attempt, at both to get Ardyn to move and to lighten up the atmosphere. It was downright feeble, yet Ardyn rose to it, turning around, their faces scant inches from each other. Gilgamesh couldn’t help but marvel how much Ardyn’s eyes resembled the sky over their very heads, a blue so achingly beautiful, it made his heart twinge just looking at them.

‘“Some time” he says! It has been _ages_! Have I wasted my charms on a frail, elderly shadow of a warrior?’ he joked, all his dramatics swooping back in, like the tide. The Blademaster could not help but answer in kind.

‘Hold your tongue, Your Highness, for I might just catch it.’

‘But imagine how marvellous that would be!’ he grinned, all traces of his previous bitterness melting away into that brilliant expression. ‘Still, that might have to wait. I’m nothing but a gentleman, always true to his word. Let us go and dine!’

Gilgamesh only stared at the sweeping gesture Ardyn made.

‘Do you mean to transport the both of us on that _thing_?’

‘Of course I do. What is wrong with that?’

‘What is wrong with travelling on chocobos?’

‘For one, they are not quick enough. And secondly, I do not see any right this moment. Also, however marvellous they might be, every last sodden person can have a chocobo, but not many can afford a magitek.’

‘Why am I not surprised, that this too circles back to your unending extravagancy… You should stop bringing attention to yourself in this manner. One might exploit it.’

‘Oh, what now, did you elect yourself to be my royal bodyguard then?’ Ardyn smiled at him easily, straddling his vehicle, waiting. Gilgamesh knew it for the dare it actually was.

‘Mayhap I have,’ he said with all the confidence he had in himself and swung his leg over the machine, arms going around Ardyn. The healer grinned back over his shoulder and started the engine.

The moon slowly peeked out behind the gathering clouds as they vanished into the darkening countryside of Lucis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ran out of time and wanted to post before midnight, so no beta yet again, but there will be! So until then, please excuse the mistakes.  
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> Edit: now beta'd!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 4: Unworthy // Ardyn is exiled and Gilgamesh is allowed to visit him one last time // “I will await you, in the beyond”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`)/ Did I nail all three prompts? (well, except for the exile part...)
> 
> (I certainly do not advise you to listen to [this](https://open.spotify.com/track/4LwxR3BIJydDkDL6WtyjJe?si=QAEBRAi7RXGHb1B-RLMpIA) on repeat........ )

Unworthy.  _Unworthy_.  _ **Unworthy.**_

That solitary word echoed a litany in Gilgamesh’s mind that felt just as empty and threatening of caving in, as the blasted corridors he tried to navigate through. He had to get to Ardyn, he had to– he could barely feel the scratches and bruises the walls left on his body, as he clawed himself through the underground passages, eyes blind to his surroundings, staggering.

He could remember broken bodies, left at the entryway– maybe guards, must be guards, did he kill them? He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t care, he had to get to Ardyn. Ardyn. Ardyn– but it was all a haze, there shouldn’t be any fog down here, his mind offered, yet there it was all over Gilgamesh’s eyes, twisting in his consciousness, clawing at his lungs, breath heaving, like a wounded animal–

Unworthy.  _Unworthy_.  _ **Unworthy.**_

He could still feel the Draconian’s voice reverberate in his bones, just as it boomed in the emptiness of what must have been the peak of Solheimian architecture not so long ago. Now that chamber was nothing but a ghost of a nation past and held nothing but phantoms of the future. The Crystal shone blindingly cold as Ardyn neared it to receive the blessing. To receive Bahamut’s blessing. Although what for, Gilgamesh was not sure.

Why the constant trials and the obligation to appease the gods? Waiting like loyal dogs, jumping at every beck and call to lick the Astrals’ feet, bowing before their might every given second.

Had Ardyn nought better to do? Was their star not dying around them? What good did all this charade and posturing do?

Gilgamesh did not see reason in the Astrals’ actions, nor did he care to find one in them. His only desire was to help his liege through all this, to stand by his side with no care for what may come.

Ardyn did  _all_  that was required of him. He went out to alleviate the pain of his people, though he obeyed that order of his heart on his own. He went to prove the gods that he was a worthy ally, and to what end? Only to be cast aside at the very last moment?

Unworthy.  _Unworthy_.  _ **Unworthy.**_

Somnus watched on without an ounce of empathy in his features, motionless in posture. There was no reaction to the Draconian’s words, ostracising his own brother as something tainted, filthy, unworthy– unworthy.  _unworthy_.  _ **unworthy.**_

The hands to help Ardyn’s crumpled form up from the floor were not those of Somnus. Gilgamesh ran to his side, Somnus’ form unmoving as his own brother cried out in pain and panic, the scourge pouring from his very being. The healer clawed at the sickness, syphoning it back inside in a desperate attempt to quarantine the malady; it could not get out, he worked so hard, but it hurt, it hurt, it must have hurt– his cries were so desperate and Gilgamesh could not do anything, he could not protect him–, he was useless, so utterly useless.

A failure of a bodyguard, a failure of a shield.

Unworthy.  _Unworthy_.  _ **Unworthy.**_

The corridors went on, and on and on– was he running in circles? How long has he been trying to get to Ardyn’s holding cell? There was shouting, sickening crunches, something was seeping into the very fibre of his shirt. He stumbled over the blurry form of a body– must be a body, must be another guard. His legs felt useless, he staggered even with no obstacles in his way– he felt like he was slipping on mousse– Ardyn liked those desserts, smile bright, eyes shining, always wanting seconds, how could he deprive his liege– his _love_ of anything– so happy, smiling, grinning, small blob of pudding in the corner of his mouth–

Unworthy.  _Unworthy_.  _ **Unworthy.**_  

Then there was that cheeky voice, calling his name, so sweet to his ears– and ebony hair and night sky eyes– but gods, his smile was so sad, why was he so sad, his Ardyn–

‘Gilgamesh.’

But that was not his Ardyn, not anymore, not for a long time. His Ardyn was no longer raven haired and the blue was long gone from his eyes, but there was tiredness.  _That_  never left.

His Ardyn was behind bars, betrayed by his own blood and robbed of his destiny. 

‘Ardyn– Ardyn– I’ll–’ he grabbed at the bars helplessly, there must be a way to open them, there had to be a way! ‘I’ll get you out of here, I’ll keep you safe I swear–’

‘Oh, darling, to have such a sense of humour, even in circumstances as these…’ There was a ghost of a grin there on his face and his voice sounded so frail, so very frail, what have they done to him– he deserved better, so much better.

‘I do not jest, I’ll–’ Gilgamesh looked around the barrier keeping them apart, eyes roaming franticly.

A touch was all it took and everything stilled.

Nothing mattered; not his urge to spill Somnus’ blood; nor the madness that stoked his rage, whispering into his ear to find a way to destroy all the useless gods that did this to them; nor the twisted passion with which he wished to demolish the Crystal, ravage it until nothing but dust was left. There was no ache in his body now and no haze on his mind, only Ardyn’s fingers on his face.

‘Do not shed tears for me my love,’ he heard Ardyn say, syllables barely leaving his cracked lips as indeed, tear drops fell from Gilgamesh’s eyes. ‘This is for the best. I will await you, in the beyond.’

_This is for the best._  Somnus’ words, a death sentence offered up, parading as magnanimous salvation.

‘I do not wish for the beyond, I ache for the here and now. I shall not bear living without you!’

‘Ah, but you must, my dear Blademaster. For all we wanted it to be true, our fates were not intertwined in the end. I shall perish, but you must live on. Honour your promise to a dying man, would you? Be the shield to the future king.’

Gilgamesh knew he would be. He would stand beside the new saviour of Eos; he would fight the battles he wanted to win by the side of his love. He would fulfil his promise and his duty, for he was never any good at denying Ardyn anything. And as soon as the grim reaper came his way, he would greet it with a final war cry, saying his good-byes to this wretched existence.

_-I will await you, in the beyond._

_-And I will meet you there, my love._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta, sorry ヾ(*ΦωΦ)ﾉ One day you shall get beta-read, quality content; this is NOT the day.  
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Edit: beta'd; thank you amiyade!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 5: “Would you watch the dawn with this old fool?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of "too little, too late", as my family was visiting today (and let me tell you, writing with a screaming baby in the background while you simultaneously try to keep up idle chit-chat with people is something else x''D but I had champagne so it's all fine I guess?)  
> But, despite everything I _did_ finish this, so I'm kind of proud. (๑◕ڡ◕๑)  
>  Hope you enjoy!

 

‘Darling, I’m home!’ Ardyn’s painfully fake cheer bounced back from the dead rocks of the gorge. None of the souls trapped there dared to even stir as the Accursed strode down the rotting planks and crumbling passes of the Tempering Grounds. Seemed like they possessed an instinctive self-preservation in death, that they lacked in life. Now they cowered in the cracks of the canyon walls and in the nooks of the bluffs as Ardyn walked the path of the fallen warriors.

He did not himself know why he came here. What good could raising the spectres of old times do? Not much in Ardyn’s opinion, yet he felt the pull of this place as if it had a blistering hook in his very soul.

There were rumours running around Lucis, of a blademaster standing watch over the Tempering Grounds, awaiting any and all heroes brave enough to prove their mettle or lay down their lives trying. Rumours said the blademaster to be waiting for someone down here in these forsaken caverns.

Ardyn very well knew that person was not him.

He knew as well, that his love should be dead. He should be on the other side, his soul waiting in the beyond, content. At peace. But Ardyn died too many times, made visits to the beyond more times than he cared to count. Gilgamesh was never there.

Mayhap his visits in the realms of the dead were too brief. Mayhap there was no afterlife, only delusional fever dreams between death and reanimation, and he lost the only person he ever cared for, for good.

Or maybe, just maybe, his dearest Blademaster was here all along, waiting for…something. His wilting heart almost fluttered at the notion, but it would have been foolish to hope. Any hope he ever had died when he himself did the first time. Now there was only the wait. He prayed this charade of hide and seek and puppetry ceased soon, either by ending the blood royal…or by ending himself. He could not say he preferred his story being finished either way…

He had more pressing matters to concentrate on at this very moment though; no care for the Chosen King or his retinue, or the Oracle who yet eluded his grasp. His very being vibrated with the desire to meet this mysterious soul slaughtering the men of Eos.

The night air seemed to freeze and the seconds slowed to a complete halt as he reached the bridge. Not even a bridge, more like the mockery of the magnificent structure they had that faithful first meeting on. This was nothing more, but a simple slab of rock connecting the two sides of the Taelpar Crag, its edges adorned with countless swords; like notches in a weird ledger, keeping count of the unfortunate souls who thought themselves worthy of facing the Blademaster.

The mist and magenta sparks, so alike his own curse, dissipated slowly, leaving a solitary figure standing before him. The man was enormous, larger than Ardyn remembered, though he always had the opinion that Gilgamesh should have walked this earth a giant, a demigod even. This much loyalty and warrior spirit should never have been constricted to that mortal body; prone to fall to malady and old age. Prone to mistakes like falling for someone he never should have…

Yet, there he stood, his Gilgamesh, in an armour and mask unfamiliar to Ardyn. The sight of a missing limb left Ardyn with a pang in his soul he did not think himself capable of feeling anymore. It could have been anyone. It could have been any warrior spirit, making its home in these forsaken grounds, but Ardyn would know the only person loyal to him, no matter what shape he brandished.

The silence was pregnant around them, Ardyn’s devilish eyes staring into unnaturally glowing orbs through the slit of the warrior’s visor. Was this a show of mercy from the gods, their meeting here? Or was it only to ensure his suffering on the blasted star was complete, allowing him to see his love again, reminding them both of what they would never have.

That must have been it; a miraculously arranged reunion only meant to breed pain. What comfort could this bring any of them after 2000 years of anguish? This mockery of a homecoming, this parody of the days they spent together and the ones they were robbed of…

The mask hit the ground with a ring that seemed to travel through the daemon ridden flats of Cleigne, and as Gilgamesh poised himself to speak, Ardyn was upon him and any words the swordsman might have planned to utter were stuck behind the bar of his lips.

Ardyn did not wish to hear–, he did not wish to hear the voice he longed for these last two millennia for fear of not recognising the lilt of it. He did not wish to hear any meaningless words that could diminish this moment, a moment so achingly beautiful he could have sobbed, if he would still be able to shed tears, any other than those cancerous black marks running down his face at times.

He feared if one of them even as much as whispered, the charm might lift, leaving him with nothing and no one yet again. So he kept silent, and watched as the Blademaster deflated, not in spirit but in size, until he resembled his mortal vessel as much as it was possible.

Gilgamesh’s embrace felt like the sweetest dream and for a man who no longer remembered sleep’s gentle hold, he was so very afraid to wake up from this reverie. There were no idle fantasies that he used to delude himself with in the early years of his plight. There was no hope of this lasting. There was only the night slowly fading around them as they stood unmoving in each other’s arms amidst the souls of fallen warriors.

Ardyn could feel the pull of the sun slowly making its way up over the horizon. He never feared those rays, not even when the myriad of daemons vibrated with apprehension inside his soul, as he walked the lands of Eos. He never once cared for the consequences, he never thought the light could do him any more harm, though now, he dreaded of what might come. He dreaded what might happen when the brightness of the rising sun finally reached them and he feared it would end this one small reprieve he had.

The inevitability of it all finally made him speak up. What was there anymore to lose?

‘Would you watch the dawn with this old fool?’

Gilgamesh smiled and his voice was even sweeter than Ardyn remembered, when he answered:

‘There is nothing in this world I would rather do.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Two more days to go! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿  
> And after I'm finished all the mistakes will be corrected, yes!
> 
> Edit: yay, now beta'd. thanks to amiyade, as usual :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 6: Execution // Young Ardyn & Gilgamesh meet for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sadly a day late, but I had a muy importante birthday party to attend to, so excuse the delay and enjoy (if you can...)! (•̀⌄•́)  
> Huge thanks to amiyade for betareading!! ♥♥♥

 

The rain has been hammering away on the rooftop of the small enclosure all night; now with sunrise looming close, it softened to a calming pitter-patter. Ardyn lay awake on his cot, sleep eluding him on this final night in the mortal realm.

He has been relocated here, into these abandoned barracks; a last “generous act” of his _dear_ Somnus, who had no choice but to execute his own brother for the greater good of Eos. His brother would have done well as an actor, Ardyn mused. How he paraded around as the heartbroken sibling, the tormented monarch who had to do the unspeakable.

He should not spend his last days underground in that cell, his brother said; that cell where the smell of death and something unspeakably dark permeated everything. A laughable attempt of mercy and respite, putting him up here now, a tiny rectangular hole his only window to the outside world.

Ardyn did not care to look through it. The world has not held his interest for some time now, and his Blademaster would not be standing outside the walls of his final holding place. Was he locked up as well, Ardyn wondered. Chained somewhere perhaps, until Ardyn has been liberated from this mortal coil? Kept under lock and key lest he tried to do something foolish and went to save Ardyn from certain death?

As much as he wished to glimpse the face of his dearest for one final time, Ardyn decided this was for the best. He did everything in his power to ensure Gilgamesh’s safety after he was gone, and he did not wish for his Blademaster to ruin his work by doing something reckless. He would have prayed, if there was any god left to pray to, that his dearest would not have to witness what was to come at sunup.

He wished he could end it all, this very moment, lying on this miserable slab of a bed. Blink and be gone from this world and not have to walk to the gallows, not have to try and look at the condescending faces around him, as he took his final steps. To not gaze upon his brother’s solemn posture as he played his part. Not wait for the axe to fall.

His body felt numb in the cool breeze wafting through the small window, but it has been numb for days, weeks, from the torment they did unto him. Or maybe that was the scourge, deep within him.

Yet, his mind was awake as ever, spinning around memories and thoughts of the near future alike in a maddening whirl. Ardyn breathed in the fresh air breezing through his wretched cell, could feel minuscule droplets of the still drizzling rain hit his skin on the rare occasion. He breathed in deep, but it wasn’t the misty air of the present that filled his lungs.

It was fresh spring air instead, with the sun slowly rising, the smell of the dawn-blossoms of Cleigne lingering everywhere. Mist slowly floated just above the surface of the Wennath, as Ardyn neared the bridge crossing the river. The locals warned him of a warrior keeping post there, challenging traveling swordsmen and mercenaries. Ardyn stepped onto the structure with confidence; he was truly curious about that man that seemed to have nothing better to do, than fight without aim. And as a healer he had nothing to fear, now had he?

A lone figure was sitting on the bridge, back to the railings, arms crossed, head hung as if asleep. He seemed immense even in this position, and Ardyn wondered what the size of this hulking beast of a man would be, were he to tower over him. He was not kept in suspense for long as the warrior rose.

Ardyn almost missed the sword being drawn as his eyes got lost over the handsome features; that dark bronze skin, those amber eyes, the enticingly strange silver of his hair. Then the man took up position, ready to attack on a moment’s notice. Ardyn pulled his own sword.

‘Not a very talkative one, are you, now?’ he taunted, his grip sweaty on the hilt. He was an adequate swordsman, Ardyn always thought, but this man? It was clear from the number of trophy swords Ardyn could see, this man was a force to reckon with. Not that the swordsman could not overpower Ardyn with his size alone. All the odds were stacked against him; one wrong move and he could be meeting his very early and unthinkably tragic end. But the man held his pose, not attacking _yet_ , so Ardyn chanced talking himself out of this situation.

‘Would you consider sheathing your weapon? I, for one, did not wander here with the intent of having a quarrel with you. I’m but a mere healer, passing by.’

‘I know a warrior when I see one,’ the man answered and Ardyn found himself enticed by the tone of it. ‘Start acting like one, instead of weaselling around.’

He charged. Ardyn tried to give as good as he got, mind whirring to end this as quickly as possible while parrying the precise blows directed at him. Then an idea struck him and he murmured a small prayer for it to succeed as he inched closer and closer to the railing. When he felt the metal push into his back, he flung his shawl at his opponent’s face. A blinding flash of his magic followed and he shouldered the swordsman, flinging him off the bridge.

Well, flinging would be the word he’d use when asked to recount this tale, but for now he was glad that he managed to heave the man into the waiting waters of the Wennath. His shoulder ached as if Ifrit himself has seared it, but a bruised shoulder was still preferable to a chopped off head.

The warrior lay on the bank of the river still, when Ardyn reached him. Maybe it was not wise to test fate’s good graces, yet he couldn't help but perch down by the dripping swordsman’s side and grin down at him.

‘Does that mean your bridge is now mine?’

The man grunted as he sat up, wiping his silvery wet strands from his handsome face. Ardyn found himself yet again mesmerised. Oh, the things he could do to this man…

‘You cheated,’ the man accused.

‘I most assuredly did not, my dear. I fought you fair and square. As much as I admire your principled ways, I am still but a mere healer, and as such, not bound to the honour of my sword.’

Then on a whim he held his hand out, and said ‘Ardyn Lucis Caelum, at your service.’

‘Gilgamesh…’ the man said as he sullenly took the offered hand. Ardyn thought it endearing. ‘Gilgamesh Izunia.’

Ardyn replayed every priceless moment in his head as he was escorted out of his cell. He recalled their talk by the side of the river following their brief and only clash. He remembered his Blademaster’s face painted in plum and berry hues, as they travelled near Malmalam and the sky was a whirlpool of clouds and the setting sun burned with colours of the passing storm. He recalled how his arms felt around Ardyn after a particularly tiring day of healing; the soft warmth in his eyes every time the Blademaster looked at him.

It was the scented Cleigne air he felt in his lungs, and it was his Gilgamesh he was walking towards. It was his Blademaster’s chest he laid his head down on. It was the warmth of Gilgamesh’s body seeping through the soft fabric of his shirt Ardyn felt, not the miserable cold of the block. It was his dearest’s lovely smell embracing him as he closed his eyes for one final time.

The sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`)/
> 
>  
> 
> Last chapter is coming soon...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gilgardyn week, day 7: “It was an honour to serve at your side”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus, my collection of tales comes to an end... thank you for sticking with it through the week; thanks for reading, and taking the time to push that kudos-button and commenting.♥♥♥  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Some updates and corrections are coming up as soon as I stopped being sad about these two...
> 
> P.S.: as usual huge shout-out and my eternal thanks to amiyade, even though she only likes this ship like 12% (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

‘It was an honour to serve at your side.’

They both knew it for the blatant lie it was, yet Somnus nodded at his Shield.

‘The honour was all mine,’ his king said, slashing at yet another daemon. ‘Although, one would think you are in hurry to die. Our stand is still strong and I only need to–’ another monster was cleaved in half, ‘–need to get to the Crystal. If I can access its magic, we’ll all be safe!’

Some things never changed, Gilgamesh thought as he swung his blade clean through a pair of goblins. The king’s delusions were as strong as ever. Or perchance, he just kept himself from voicing his true thoughts out of sheer politeness. A smidge of respect that accumulated through the long years could have also been the reason for Somnus not to say out loud that somebody would have to hold the fort here, on the bridge to Insomnia. That _that_ someone would _not_ be the king.

Insomnia… Gilgamesh wanted to empty his belly with a heaving retch, whenever that name was uttered. Or whenever he laid eyes upon that blasted statue of _his king_ , dwarfing the buildings near it as it loomed over the city. “Protecting” it from outside malice. If Somnus did it in the same manner he protected his brother, then Gilgamesh foretold a very short lifespan for the city and its inhabitants.

As if living up to its name, Insomnia never slept and the Founder King would now always hold vigil over his precious Crown City from inside of his marble likeness. Motionless. Useless. A hulking reminder of the days of old and of the Founder King’s glory, while his brother was all but erased from history. His memory dying with Gilgamesh, nobody left walking the lands of Eos who would willingly spread tales of the healer hero, nobody who would recite his adventures with his bodyguard at his side. Nobody left to utter Ardyn’s name.

Or his own for that matter, for Gilgamesh was sure, as soon as he perished, the same fate would befall the King’s Shield as it did the healer; Gilgamesh would join his love not only in death, but obscurity. He outlived his usefulness, and wasn’t that just the thought…

The war came to a slow end, and the kingdom of Lucis thrived on the stricken down remains of Solheim. Insomnia now almost the crown jewel in Somnus’ blessed dominion that he always envisioned. The connection between Protector King and Oracle was as firm as ever, and so was the partnership between their two countries.

The only missing link, Somnus’ great idea of one last magical cleanse was soon to be done, as his king vanished from his sight, bound for the city. And so, Gilgamesh’s very existence would become obsolete. What more could have Ardyn asked of him anyways?

His brother was kept safe and happy, along with his new family, in his old-new Crown City. This should be enough. Must be enough, for Gilgamesh drew the line here.

Ardyn would have loved the irony of having the last battle he ever fought on a bridge. Gilgamesh loved the symbolism of it; him standing on that bridge, back turned on everything he hated and eyes gazing into a Lucis past. For he did not see his comrades fall by his side in the onslaught, and he could not see the beasts coming at him. He only saw the hills he used to roam with Ardyn on that ridiculous magitek ride of his. He only had eyes for the sunset they watched together that day he gave up everything in his useless life and followed Ardyn, wherever the healer may take them.

With every new weapon summoned the burning sparkles of the magic brought welcome images of flowing violet-red hair and twinkling mischievous eyes. All of the cries of the dying soldiers, all of the disgusting sounds of the vanishing daemons, all the mess and growls and sweat and blood and pain –  it all melted away.

There was nothing but the memory of those lips against his own, fingers entwined – the ghost of Ardyn’s head lying on his shoulder as they lazed on a soft summer night.

In the next second, in a blaze of blue light, the whole world disappeared.

Nothing was left but the crackling of the Crystal’s magic in the air and the bodies of the Lucian soldiers littering the bridge to Insomnia. Gilgamesh kneeled in the midst of the massacre, breath barely leaving his lips, his grip slowly slipping from the hilt of his swords.

I did my part, my love, he thought, a heave of air that could have been a bitter laugh at their misfortune, died in his throat in a wet gurgle. The world around him still shone with the promise of happier times coming. He could feel his body slowly numb down. He could see a mirage of Ardyn’s smile, the one he only reserved for his Blademaster. It was the most inviting sight Gilgamesh has ever seen in his life.

He smiled weakly as his grip finally faltered and his body sagged.

He closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> Feel free to come and cry with me on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/PearlPugly) or [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/)  
> (⊙ ε　⊙ﾉ)ﾉ


End file.
